Nick Mason
Nick Mason's Fictitious Sports

Let's start by saying that the title of this album is purely a commercial operation.

Indeed, because despite the title, and the fact that this record is often remembered as a solo project by the drummer of Pink Floyd, the songs are all born from the mind of Jazz artist Carla Bley. With her and Nick Mason, who merely sticks to beating on his usual instruments of the trade, we find Robert Wyatt on vocals, along with other people unknown to most of the world.
Objectively, one can assume that selling a solo album by a member of one of the most celebrated Rock bands involves far fewer difficulties than selling the same album where he is just a co-performer. However, the effects were not as hoped (170th place in the USA charts) and, moreover, it was not generally well received among those ill-advised Pink Floyd fans who bought it sight unseen.

Recorded in October of the year 1979 and released two years later, the album belongs to the Canterbury Scene, and one can sense the influences of artists such as Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, and Gong.
The result is a well-played work, never boring, sometimes disorienting, often ironic (in the lyrics, though sometimes a bit warm), in which Bley tries to marry Rock and Jazz (more the former than the latter), with decidedly surprising results.
There are pieces where the taste for fun seems to take over: in "Boo To You Too" Wyatt sings over a classic Boogie riff to advise us on what to do in case of the unfortunate fate of playing in front of an audience that does not appreciate our music and expresses vocal disagreement (the title should be sufficiently explanatory).
And if in "I Was Wrong" we learn of an encounter with alien life forms of the formerly unbelieving, then repentant, Robert Wyatt, at the close of the work, he reveals a perverse interest in mineralogy in one of the most successful pieces ("I'm A Mineralist," indeed), which starts quietly to build up midway with a trumpet solo (I guess so) over a successful guitar riff by Chris Spedding.
Perhaps only in "Hot Water" can one perceive some Floydian hints, particularly of Dark Side Of The Moon (Gilmour's guitar, but not only), within, however, a piece still distant from the style of the English quartet. Among other things, only here the brass section is at rest, whereas elsewhere it is the protagonist throughout the rest of the album.

But beyond any rational analysis, it also seems worth emphasizing how the album is able to reconcile enjoyment and accessibility (by this I do not mean availability, since the CD should be anything but easy to find, so don't ask me how I got to listen to it): in fact, I confess that rarely, as in this case, have I been immediately thrilled by an album. This happened, by the way, just a few days ago.
Now, I have to admit that the first thing I did after the first listen was to search for reviews, convinced I would read enthusiastic critiques. Imagine, then, my surprise in noting, the absence of this review on DeBaser, as well as the presence of not particularly flattering comments, on the Internet, about the work itself. I must be losing it, I thought, but after eight or nine listens I can only confirm my initial opinion. De gustibus non est disputandum, as the saying goes.

After further examination, I also have to acknowledge that I am unable to quantify the added value represented by Wyatt's contribution, present in seven out of eight tracks, but it is my belief that some pieces rely primarily on his voice ("Do Ya?", for example); it is also the very personal opinion of the writer that Wyatt would be credible even if he were singing the package insert of Tavor.

I conclude by responding in advance to anyone who might heavily criticize this review:
Boo To You Too,
Boo To You Too.